A Secret Grace
by roxy wilde
Summary: after Jack and the boys "stop the world," a girl from their past returns...with a secret...
1. chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
Grace Nolan took a deep breath and stared up at the boarding house. "There it is," she thought to herself. She crossed her fingers and rushed up the stairs. Though she tried to keep it soft, the door creaked loudly when she opened it. The old man was still there, all right, and he turned his head towards her when she entered. "Gracie?" he whispered, "Is that you?"  
  
"Hiya, pops!" she giggled softly. "I'm back!"  
  
"You've grown so much since we last saw ya! Come 'ere an' give yer old Pops a hug!"  
  
The boys beat him to it. Spot Conlon was visiting and he and Racetrack Higgins were engaged in conversation. At the sight of Grace, though, Spot shut up immediately. "Heya, Spot? Whatsamattah, you look like you seen a ghost or somethin'!"  
  
"Race, tell me I'm not seein' things!" He pointed over at the girl, a smile forming on his dirty face.  
  
Racetrack followed his hand to the pretty girl standing by the door. "Sweet- face? Oh, my God, you're back!" The two boys rushed over and wrapped her up in a big bear hug.  
  
"Uh.hey, fellas, what's new?"  
  
"What's new? Why, you missed the whole war, didn't cha?"  
  
Grace raised a curious eyebrow at Racetrack as Spot pulled her towards the stairs. "Hey, ya New York rats! Get in line, we got ourselves a visitor!" Spot yelled up the stairs. Troops of boys pushed and shoved their way down, all stopping at the mere sight of their only female friend, the first and only girl newsie there ever was. She was like a sister to all of them, but she had been gone so long she seemed more like an angel. In a big ruckus, they greeted her heartily.  
  
"Hey, Sweets, what happened? You look like a goil all of a sudden!"  
  
"Hey, shut up, Snoddy, I can still soak ya! Besides.I kinda like this dress! Heya, Crutchie, why don't you come out on the steps with me! At least Iyou're/I a gentleman!" She pulled the gimp outside and boosted herself up on the rail. "So, where's Jack?"  
  
"Oh, Jack's at Davey's, of course! He has dinner there every night now."  
  
"Davey? Who's Davey?"  
  
"Oh, that's right! You weren't here! Him an' Davey stopped the world!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'll tell ya what. Why don't you ask Racetrack to show you over dere? I ain't walkin' so good an' I could nevah git up dos stairs!"  
  
"All right, Crutchie." She pulled the door opened and yelled for Racetrack. "Hey, thanks for your help!"  
  
"Any time, Sweet-face, any time!" The cripple limped back inside, squeezing around Racetrack. Arm-in-arm, the two Newsies wandered down the streets and alleys of New York City towards the Jacob residence.  
  
The night was cool and calm, but a trace of excitement still hung in the air. "So, how've ya been, girlie?" Race asked, lighting up his cigar.  
  
"Good. My father got us a real nice place out west, but I wan'ed ta stay 'ere. I'm a big-city kinda girl, ya know?"  
  
"Yeah. Welp, 'ere we are! Hold on, just stand right down der, I'll be right back. He opened the door and disappeared up the stairs. Grace held her breath, trying to push back the butterflies in her stomach. She smoothed out her dress and closed her eyes tight. It had been so long, maybe too long. Had he forgotten her?  
  
Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Jack, frozen in his place on the stairs, staring at her. "Heya, Kelley."  
  
"Grace?" He squinted, then his jaw dropped and he ran forward, thrusting her up in the air and spinning around with her in his arms. He kissed her and hugged her tight. "I can't believe it, you're actually back! I missed you so much!"  
  
"I know, I missed you, too!" She buried her nose in his shoulder, indulging herself in his smell once again.  
  
"I think I'll just, uh, leave you two alone now.if dat's all right." Racetrack walked briskly away.  
  
Jack kissed her again, not wanting to let her go. When he finally pulled away, he took a good look at her. "What's dis?" he asked, tugging at her dress.  
  
"It's my dress, do you like it?"  
  
"I dunno, I never saw you like dis before, all done up beautiful-like."  
  
"Well, what's wrong with me lookin' like a lady once in a while?"  
  
"You ain't no lady! Now c'mon, we got a lot of catchin' up ta do!"  
  
"So how was it? The, ah, west an' all?" Jack threw a stone out across the river and watched it skip along the surface.  
  
"It sure weren't New York, dat's for sure. It was all big, just a bunch a sand that went on for miles. But I dunno, I didn't like it, but my Pop sure did. He's got dees crazy ideas, ya know, like he wants to be a cowboy er some'in-" She caught herself suddenly, realizing what she had just said. "Not dat.dair's anythin' wrong with bein' a cowboy,.Cowboy."  
  
"Listen, Grace, I gotta ask ya some'in." He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his dirty hair. "Did, uh.did you ever care if I, uh.well, what ah'm tryin' ta say is dat, um.you nevah cared if I stayed or if I goed, did ya?"  
  
"Oh, Kelley!" She slipped her hand in his and rested her head on his shoulder. "You always said you wanned ta be free. Who'm I ta stand in ya way?"  
  
"I know, but.Listen, sweets, I gotta go. Are you stayin' at the boardin' house tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, as far as I know, dat is if Pops'll let me."  
  
"Poifect. C'mon, let's go." He helped her up and put his arm lovingly around her waist. Her return had changed everything, but how was he going to tell her that? 


	2. chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
A soft knock on the door woke her up nice and early the next morning. Kloppman usually just barged in to wake the boys up, but he was always gentler with his little Gracie. She had her own small room upstairs, with a little bed and a tin tub that served as a bathroom. It was nothing like her extravagant dressing room at the Vaudeville theatre in California, but it was cozy.  
  
She took a lukewarm bath, washed her face, and brushed her teeth and hair. She had always loved her long, dark hair, but only admired it when she was alone. She had been one of the boys for so long that braiding in on either side and tying the plates in a knot on her neck seemed like second nature. It had felt so strange to feel bouncy curls swishing around her face when she was on stage, it was nice to get back to normal.  
  
Carefully, Grace opened her suitcase. It had been a gift from the theatre in California, so sad to see her go. They had given her so much during her stay: beautiful dresses, lotions and colognes, ribbons for her hair. But to stay there would have been to ignore her heart. So here she was, back in New York, disregarding the expensive and fashionable ensembles bursting from the suitcase and instead fastening a dirty skirt around her waist  
  
She was outside on the steps, flipping nonchalantly through a Sears catalogue, when the boys came trampling downstairs some time later. Jack pulled her up from behind and kissed her on the cheek, and they all marched off towards the distribution center, singing their morning work chantey.  
  
The morning began happily enough, with the nuns stationed at their usual table waiting to offer a meager breakfast to the working boys of New York. The sun had barely crept over the statue of Horace Greeley in the square when the gates opened for the Newsies to pick up the morning edition. "Ladies first," Jack offered, with an eloquent bow.  
  
"Finally you admit it!" Gracie remarked as she sauntered up the platform to Weisel's window. She leafed quickly through the pages, then held her coins up to the man behind the bars. "Fifty papers Mr.wait a minute, where's Weasel?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Mush stated, "didn't you know? He was fired when Jack and Davey.oh yeah, you weren't here!"  
  
"Geez, the things I miss." Gracie took her papers and thanked the man at the window, then took a seat on a wooden crate and turned to the middle of the paper. "I'Brooklyn Man Released from Prison after Five Years.'/I" she read, considering the headline's possibilities.  
  
Jack sat down next to her and unfolded one of his own papers. "So where ya headed this morning, Sweet-face?" he asked as his eyes moved up and down the page.  
  
"I dunno, I was thinkin' maybe the boxing ring or the pub on 22nd Street. How 'bout you?"  
  
"Dunno yet. Gotta Wait for Davey." Cowboy looked up from his paper and skimmed the scene for a sight of his selling partner, and upon finding no luck in that venture returned to his reading.  
  
"So, uh.when am I gonna meet this Davey, anyway?"  
  
"He'll be here, don't worry." He looked up again and this time spotted the boy. Jack flagged him down and helped his girl up to make introductions. "Here he is! Gracie, meet David, the Walking Mouth. Dave, this is, um, Grace."  
  
David, shy and reserved as usual, smiled sheepishly at the pretty brunette. But Gracie was never one to hold back. "How do ya do?" she smiled, spitting in her palm and holding it out to the newcomer. He reluctantly followed the customary Newsie greeting, then stuffed his hands back in his pockets.  
  
"So, Dave," Jack said as he lit a cigarette, "Where's Les today?"  
  
"Oh, he's at home helping Sarah. Mom's kind of worried that he's catching small pox or something, but-" He cut his sentence short, realizing he was in front of a lady and to continue talking about his brother's cold would be inappropriate.  
  
"Who's Sarah?" Grace asked, completely confused.  
  
"Sarah's Dave's sister," Cowboy explained. "She kinda saved your spot while you was away."  
  
"Sarah, huh? She pretty?" She narrowed her gaze at the young man seated next to her.  
  
"So, boys and girls," Race cut in, squeezing in between Jack and Grace and breaking the tension, "Anything good this morning?"  
  
"Yeah," Grace grunted, "just ask Jack." She hopped off the crate and strolled off to her usual selling place. Sarah Jacobs had been 'saving her spot.' So it wasn't just Gracie who had changed, after all. 


	3. chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
The day went by quickly, which was nice. Grace sold the morning edition rather quickly to the men in the various bars nearby, and the afternoon went just as well at the boxing match. IStrange,/I she thought to herself as she wandered back towards the square, II haven't the faintest what to do with the rest of my day./I  
  
She headed to the boarding house and was greeted by a few of the younger boys running outside to sword fight. They always finished selling early, mostly because they were cute and sold easily to women, and also because they could only buy as many papers as they could carry (and that wasn't very many). Smiling, she opened the book on the desk and picked up the pen, signing her name in the looping cursive she had learned in California. Written that way, her name appeared almost elegant. She stopped to admire it against the scribble of the other boys, then rushed upstairs to her room.  
  
A soft breeze was blowing the curtains as she fastened the laces on her tall black boots. Her ensemble was a picture of Victorian style, all the way up to the curls that rested on her shoulder and the dainty hat pinned to the top of her head. Yes, for a little while she would escape this lifestyle and become the most fashionable woman in Manhattan. She would go to the bookstore and purchase a Wildean play or something intellectual of the sort. It would be a lovely afternoon.  
  
But how was she to avoid the other newsies? If they found out just how much money she had, there's no telling what they would do, good or bad. Grace climbed out of her window and down the fire escape, making sure she wasn't spotted. Carefully, she hurried down the street to the bookstore.  
  
"After you, miss," a gentleman in a nice business suit bowed, holding the door for her. She nodded with a smile and entered the store. Once inside, she felt like she belonged. That is until a group of young ladies about her age entered. Peering at them over her little book, she could taste the expensive French powder on their cheeks and the crispness of their freshly cleaned dresses, as well as the dust on her own. The girls had bags draped over their arms, and Gracie explained this to herself fancifully. They were in the city shopping for the social they were holding for one of their birthdays, and had all bought brand new dresses for the occasion. Now they were here to buy beautiful stationery for the invitations, which they would dab a bit of cologne on and send out to only the most elite of their classmates. Oh, how Grace longed to be one of those chosen few! She could picture the scene: seated on cushions around a small coffee table, sipping tea and nibbling daintily on cakes and biscuits, surrounded by these well- mannered ladies. Later on their dates would arrive, clad in handsome suits and gleaming white gloves, and they would spend a lovely evening at the theatre. If only.  
  
"Excuse me!" A scolding female voice awoke Gracie from her reverie. "I you're blocking the shelf!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Grace apologized shyly.  
  
"Evelyn, stop it!" another of the girls reprimanded. "It's getting late, we'd better go."  
  
"Are you late for a dinner party, or the theatre?" Grace couldn't stop herself from asking.  
  
"Gracious, dearie, of course not! We just don't want to be out when those awful newsboys are around!" She chuckled like a chipmunk, covering her mouth with a rather fat hand.  
  
"Watch what ya say, Queenie," Grace warned. The Brooklyn accent she had been trying so hard to hide was revealing itself strongly now. "Besides, what makes you think any a those boys'd wanna take out a two bit whore like you?" She let out a disgusted snort, pushed through their circle and stormed out of the store, dropping a few coins on the counter for the book she held in her hand. 


End file.
